


What the Heart Wants (And the Mind Refuses)

by Renai_chan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Tony Stark, Cock Cage, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom Drop, Gags, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Pain Kink, Possessive Steve, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:05:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve discovers the reasoning behind Tony's self-destructiveness, and as a good boyfriend, does his best to provide an alternative for it. But when he starts enjoying himself a little too much, he realizes they're spiraling towards mutual destruction and opts out, only for Tony to fall back into old patterns until Steve figures out what he truly wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Heart Wants (And the Mind Refuses)

**Author's Note:**

> Another Steve/Tony BDSM fic (and nowhere NEAR the last one). *sigh* I'm becoming a one-trick pony.
> 
> In my defense, though, I'm cleaning out my unfinished fic list (about thirty stories with new ones being added every so often, so good luck with _that_ ), and this has been in there _forever_. It was due to be posted for a long time now. 
> 
> Based off of [this avengerkink meme](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/3266.html?thread=1779394#t1779394) (from Round 2! Which only proves my point as to how overdue this is).
> 
> So, disclaimer: I started this years ago, before my knowledge of S&M had become what it is today. Back then, I thought all pain = sexual pain, so it kind of reflects in the first part of the fic. I know better now, so I tried to explain it away. I couldn't really take it out without ruining the premise of the fic (or at the very least MAJOR revisions which I'm unwilling to do), so yeah. If some of it doesn't make sense, I blame past me.
> 
> Okay, I'll stop talking now.
> 
> (Thanks, hazzial, for helping with the betaing!)

From the moment Steve had learned of Anthony Edward Stark’s existence, he had known he was self-destructive to the point of being classified borderline suicidal. His file said so. Nick had said so. Everybody in the goddamned world said so. And so Steve braced himself to deal with the black sheep of the group, and he was only right to do so.

Tony Stark was arrogant, brash, narcissistic, uncooperative and, yes, self-destructive.

He ignored most commands to hold back and wait for backup, instead plunging headlong into what would sure be disaster, only to emerge victorious in exchange for broken bones, concussions, burns, internal bleeding and a malfunctioning arc reactor. He would ignore direct orders of seeing Medical and getting clearance before returning to the field, instead patching himself up and flying off on his own into more disaster until Nick chose to allow him back onto the team. ‘Only a consultant,’ he’d remind everyone with a sneer.

But Steve was kind, understanding, nice and caring, and so it was only natural that if anyone could melt an iron heart, it would be he. 

He brought Tony coffee and sandwiches when the other had been banging away for 36 hours straight in his workshop. He helped Tony patch up the injuries he couldn’t reach. He accompanied Tony (whether or not the older man was willing) on those missions he chose to do alone, and on a number of times, pulled him out of serious scrapes. He persuaded Nick to put him back on the team even if he wasn’t fully-cleared for duty.

And so when Tony pressed a kiss to his lips, he really wasn’t all that surprised, though Tony couldn’t claim the same when Steve returned the impulse decision with a kiss of his own and started what would be the longest relationship of Tony’s life.

Not that the relationship they had seemed to affect Tony’s self-destructive tendencies. He still rushed headlong into things, he still disobeyed direct commands, and he still flew off on his own. This time, though, Steve was there to patch up his injuries and kiss him better.

That didn’t say he had learned to like or live with it though.

……………… 

“What the _hell_ were you thinking, Stark?” Steve practically screamed in his face, pinning him roughly against a wall, out of the listening range of the other Avengers and the SHIELD clean-up crew. Tony winced, not because of the aggravated injuries, but because Steve only called him ‘Stark’ when he was really, really, spitting mad. Like now, for instance. But he was terribly cute when he was mad, so Tony didn’t mind all that much.

“Uhh… That I was saving lower Manhattan from that raging beast of a monster? That executing that risk minimized injury and damage and eradicated the risk of casualties?So… uhh… You’re welcome?” he tried for nonchalance, but Steve only shoved him harder against the wall, his anger overpowering his concern for the dislocated shoulder, mild concussion and sprained wrist, along with a myriad of small cuts, that Tony sustained from the attack he used against the enemy. Tony bit back a small moan, but stopped fighting against Steve’s hold.

“Not the _point_ , Tony. You deliberately disobeyed my command. _Again_. You put yourself in the line of fire. _Again_. You purposely caused yourself _another_ multitude of injuries that, frankly, are starting to get harder and harder to ignore,” Steve snarled.

“Uhh… champ? You might want to loosen your hold a little bit,” Tony murmured, feeling the metal under Steve’s fingers start to give way and press into his skin. Steve either did not hear him or was purposely ignoring him, but Tony couldn’t figure him out because he was desperately trying to hold back another moan.

“Nick’s been chewing me out since the last time I begged you back onto the team after you blew yourself, and an entire building, up. _Again_. And then you go and do practically the same thing. _Again_.” Steve grabbed Tony’s sprained wrist, and now Tony knew he was mad enough to forget that it was sprained because he twisted it sharply as he said, “And I’m starting to agree with him and bench you until you gain some sense and—“

“Steve!” Tony whimpered, the pain from his wrist radiating to his elbow and the rest of his body. Steve paused, confused. “Steve, either let me go, or fuck me up against this wall, right now. _Please_ ,” the genius hissed through his teeth. Steve’s confusion faded and he snarled, but pulled his hands away anyway. Tony nearly slumped to the ground, held up only by the friction to the wall.

“And _there_ you go again. Every time I try to have a conversation with you about your disturbingly _masochistic_ tendency to _want_ to get hurt, you go and throw sex in—“ Steve’s tirade suddenly came to an abrupt halt. “…my face.” Tony looked up at him and managed a weak, humorless laugh that went on for much longer than it had to.

“So, finally managed to put two and two together, yeah?” he asked. Steve looked supremely confused and rather alarmed as he stepped back to _look_ at Tony. Properly. And Tony silently bore his scrutiny.

“Have you—Have you tried talking to someone about it?” he asked hesitantly, and Tony wanted to fire a repulsor in his face.

“It’s not an _illness_ , Rogers,” he snarled and stepped away from his captain to fly up and away.

……………

Tony ignored Steve for two whole days, and Steve did nothing to remedy that because he had things to sort out in his head, like how he felt about what he just learned about his boyfriend and, more importantly, what to _do_ about what he just learned. He had heard about things like this, of course. In jokes and porn that he secretly viewed after Clint had introduced him to the Internet, but this was real. Tony was real. And he was at a loss.

It was only when Clint had made the comment about them being in a ‘lover’s spat’ that he broke out of his funk and sought Tony out because if the others started noticing, they may start figuring things out, if they hadn’t yet, and Steve thought Tony deserved a bit more privacy than that, and that it was his duty to ensure he received said privacy.

“Tony?” he called out, more for respect than because he didn’t know whether or not Tony was there. He was ignored, of course, but he easily found the genius in front of the computer, hands moving rapidly and the screen movements following just as quickly. He sat on the edge of the table just behind Tony, momentarily watching the flickering lights of the screen before calling out again, “Tony?”

“What can I help you with, Cap?” Though he didn’t turn to Steve, Tony’s tone was polite and helpful and masked the hurt he felt at Steve’s reaction. Steve needed to fix that, so he placed one hand on Tony’s shoulder and tugged at him to turn around. Tony was surprisingly compliant, but unsurprisingly distant. He spoke before Steve could get a word in edgewise. “You were pretty much right on target with your offhand comment,” he said. 

“Masochism: the derivation of pleasure from pain and/or humiliation, often thought of as a manifestation of aberrant psychological development in childhood. I get my kicks primarily from pain, as an acceptable partner willing to play the role of a sadist is rather difficult to find, but pain is easy enough to inflict on my own. Honestly, though, I’d prefer equal parts of both. 

“The pain sought by masochists usually comes from sexual ‘scenes’ as they call them, usually along with D and s themes and bondage, among other things, but I apparently have an _example_ to set as Iron Man, hence putting a damper on my whole presence in the BDSM scene. And then there’s the whole trust issue. I haven’t been able to take a Dom since Afghanistan, so I settle for what I can in the battlefield.”

“Tony…”

“Some say it isn’t healthy, but I say: hey, what is?” Tony finished then turned back to the computer and pulled up articles and pictures related to his discussion. “Now, I haven’t had a full psychological evaluation done on me, but I have read up on it, though. A myriad of reasons—all applicable, really; you can confirm that with Pepper and maybe Natasha—say why I might be afflicted: relief from the pressures of being SI CEO and a world-renown genius… relief from guilt, from responsibility… possibly due to my miserable childhood and ‘daddy issues’… Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from Afghanistan… my mother didn’t love me enough… nobody understands me… 

“Boo- _fucking_ -hoo.”

“I wasn’t—” Steve started, but Tony turned around sharply, his clinical interest gone and anger in its stead. 

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he started with a frostiness in his tone that Steve had only ever heard directed towards politicians, businessmen, and villains that had particularly pissed him off. “I don’t care about the _why_ , and I don’t particularly care for being _cured_. I _want_ it because it makes me feel _good_ , and I would _thank you very much_ for you not to go blabbing it to the rest of the world because I have a shitload more things to deal with than Nick Fury breathing down my neck over my disturbingly twisted sexual proclivities.”

“Tony…” Steve tried again. 

“ _Leave_ , Rogers,” Tony hissed before turning back around to face the computer. He made no movement though. “I will not ask you to deal with this because I know your patriotic and righteous little values will be compromised and you’d—” Tony didn’t get to finish that sentence because Steve forcibly turned him around and pressed their mouths together, pressing Tony back against the chair and the chair against the computer, until Tony let out a brief, tiny moan. When he did, Steve nipped sharply at his lower lip and ran a hand through Tony’s hair, tugging on it softly. The effect was a louder, more appreciative moan.

“God. When will you _ever_ shut up?” Steve murmured when he found Tony was (finally!) unwilling to say anything else. The genius held completely still, eyes wide in surprise, and Steve became extraordinarily aware of his hand tightening in Tony’s hair. He squeezed once just to try it out, and the squeak of a moan that escaped Tony’s mouth furthered his resolve. 

“I…” Steve started, again the hesitance. “I can’t say that I’m entirely too comfortable with this, Tony. The concept of associating causing pain with sex is… it’s a bit foreign to me.” Tony snorted. “Okay. A _lot_ foreign,” Steve amended. “But I love you, so I think I’m willing to give it a try.” Tony bit his lip. “And if it gets you to stop trying to get yourself killed during missions, well I suppose I should be happy as well, shouldn’t I?” 

Tony said nothing. This time he was the one who was hesitant while Steve smiled softly and gave his hair an experimental tug, pulling his head back to bare his throat. He groaned as Steve’s mouth attached itself to his neck, sucking just below his jaw until Tony was gripping the armrests of his chair and quietly asking for more.

……………

 

“Yeah, like that… Just a bit harder…”

 

……………

 

“Harder… no, harder…”

 

……………

 

“Fucking hell, Rogers! I have a safeword! Stop fucking asking!”

 

……………

 

“Yesss… that’s—fuck, please!”

 

……………

 

“Fuck you, Steve, you’re gorgeous… yeah… say that again…”

 

……………

 

“Don’t tease, Steve. Please…”

 

……………

 

“Have I mentioned how big a fucking turn on it is to hear you say that?”

 

……………

 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease…”

 

……………

 

“Oh, god… Yesss…”

 

……………

 

“Nnnngh!”

 

……………

Steve spread Tony’s legs apart, caressing the insides of his thighs slowly before bending over the writhing brunet to press a kiss to the cloth-covered lips. He reached beneath Tony to spread his ass cheeks—the only warning he gave before plunging himself into his tightness in one harsh thrust. Tony’s scream, muffled by the gag, sent shivers of delight down Steve’s spine as he pulled out completely and allowed Tony’s hole to recover, only to break it open again with another thrust.

“God, you’re so… fucking… tight…” he grunted, as he repeatedly tore into Tony, each thrust accompanied by what he knew had to be spikes of pain that came from being barely stretched, if Tony’s reactions were anything to go by. He delighted in each muffled moan and whimper and scream and plead that accompanied his movement. His grip was tight around Tony’s thighs; so much so, that he was sure he’d see finger-shaped bruises decorating them by the end of the night, and that thought only made Steve plow into his lover harder.

It was when a tear leaked its way out of Tony’s eyes that Steve bent over again to bite down on Tony’s neck. The cry wrenched from Tony’s throat accompanied Steve’s own groan as he came hard and deep in him. And when he had ridden out his orgasm, he pulled away completely and staggered off the bed. 

He cleaned himself up quickly in the bathroom and moved to sit on the chair just off to the side of the bed, sparing Tony’s raging erection neither a caress nor glance. Tony’s eyes followed him with a turn of his head, begging for completion, but Steve only grinned. He pulled his sketchbook onto his lap and stroked its surface with the pencil in what would be the beginning of one of Tony’s many lead impressions in the book.

He heard Tony groan softly, his eyes now shut and facing the canopy as he writhed on the bed, torn between looking for friction and quelling his erection. Both were equally out of his reach with his hands bound awkwardly and painfully beneath his back, his hole aching and leaking with Steve’s cum, and the marks on his thighs and neck throbbing. He was perfect like this and Steve aimed to capture such perfection as best as he could on paper.

Well, that and delaying Tony’s gratification, if he were honest.

It took him a little under an hour—Tony’s muffled begs going unheeded—before he put his sketchbook away and called Tony’s attention to him.

“Come here, darling,” he murmured, thrilled with the way Tony struggled to his knees on the carpeted floor. “Good boy,” he praised when the smaller man had settled between his knees. He removed the gag--the wadded up remains of the briefs Steve had been wearing earlier held in place by one of Tony’s neckties--and stroked Tony’s chin. He guided his lover’s mouth onto his cock, not needing to say any more; Tony sucked and licked and kissed his cock eagerly, and Steve allowed him that momentary pleasure before he tangled his hands in the curls at the base of Tony’s neck and fucked himself up into his mouth. 

The genius choked and gagged on the length that managed to shove its way into his throat, but Steve wasn’t deterred. He pulled Tony’s head down and thrust himself up, fucking his throat as harshly as his ass. More tears slid down Tony’s cheeks, involuntary from the treatment, and Steve stroked them, smearing them over his cheeks. 

When he came once more, he held Tony down such that his nose was pressed into the curls at the base of Steve’s cock and came deep into his throat. He held him there while he relished the feel of the flexing throat around the head of his cock as Tony struggled to swallow around him. Only when Tony fought minutely against his hold did he let his lover go to allow him a deep and ragged breath.

“Perfect,” Steve murmured, pressing several kisses to Tony’s panting mouth. The genius kissed back with a fervor that demanded Steve return the favor, but Steve held him back and only chuckled.

“Please,” Tony begged. “Steve, please.”

“Tomorrow,” Steve answered, “If you’re good.” Tony very nearly wailed, but Steve shoved the makeshift gag back in his mouth and lifted him onto the bed. “Sleep, darling,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. Tony made a soft noise that appealed to the side of Steve that wanted to give in. He knew Tony’s bound arms and gagged mouth would ache like a bitch in the morning, but he knew Tony loved it, so he ignored the noise and pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead while the other buried his face in Steve’s chest.

He was still awake when Tony’s breathing evened out half an hour later, and he was awake when Tony shifted positions a few hours after that (only to whimper softly as he rolled onto his aching arms then roll back into his original position on his side). Steve stroked Tony’s stretched lips, then his neck where the bruise he had bitten was blooming into a dark mark under the moonlight, right beside another mark, yellowing from yesterday.

It wasn’t the first time he wondered if what he was doing was the right thing to do; to indulge Tony in his… in this. It couldn’t possibly be normal; it couldn’t possibly be right.

Except that it was.

When Tony would beg to be fucked harder, when he’d moan when Steve pulled his hair, the way he’d admire the bruises Steve put around his wrists, they way he’d look with all those bruises and bite marks around his arms, legs, his neck. It was so fucking perfect that Steve knew there should be something wrong with them. 

With both of them.

With Steve and the way he wanted to put those bruises on Tony.

He suddenly jerked himself away from Tony, the genius moaning and rolling onto his front when Steve’s heat disappeared. It took him a few second to collect his thoughts and really think about them.

He wanted this. 

Not because Tony did, but because he did.

He wanted to see Tony bruised and battered and aching and used. He wanted to see Tony on his knees, begging and pleading for release which Steve would deny him. 

He wanted Tony hurt.

But he didn’t want that.

It was safe and acceptable when he did it only for Tony’s sake because it was normal to do things the people you loved wanted, even if you didn’t. 

It wasn’t normal or acceptable to like hurting the people you love.

Steve’s grip on the bedsheets tightened, and he nearly tore at them in frustration, only Tony’s presence atop them preventing him from doing so. Instead, he slid his fingers beneath the ties that bound his boyfriend’s arms and pried them apart, tossing them onto the floor, and undid the knot of the gag and pulled it out, their fate following that of the bindings’. He then pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead—the genius only mumbling incoherently in response—and left the room.

……………

The arms that slid around his neck from behind while he ate his breakfast were unmistakable. Tony’s scent alone was enough to give him away, but it was the marks that decorated them that made Steve shovel the last bit of food in his mouth and push the plate away.

“I was good,” Tony whispered, the seductive pout clear in his voice. “I slept a full eight hours and didn’t go down to the workshop when I got up.” Steve shut his eyes briefly and sighed in response to the implication of Tony’s words.

“Yeah, you were,” he answered, turning around and drawing Tony in between his legs. They shared a brief kiss before Steve added, “I… Something came up. I’ll be out for a bit, okay?” Tony frowned minutely, and Steve knew why; it was a first that he didn’t know what Steve had to do or where he was going or even just have an inclination of what Steve was planning. After all, Steve had little life and few friends outside of the Avengers and SHIELD. Steve staved off a wince and prayed that Tony didn’t look too much into it. He kissed him again, deeper this time, to convince him so, and pulled away to see Tony’s hesitant nod.

“Yeah, okay. I think Pep wants me for a couple of things anyway,” he answered and stepped back. He grabbed his cup and poured himself a measure coffee before walking out and, presumably, to the workshop with a last glance at Steve.

……………

‘A bit’ turned out to be twelve hours, and it was dark by the time Steve got home. He knew Tony would still be in the lab and couldn’t find it in himself to seek the other man out; he had, after all, spent the last twelve hours thinking about this… about them, and all he had come up with so far was ‘I don’t know.’ Instead, he perched himself in front of the TV and flipped through the channels until he settled on Spongebob Squarepants because nothing said ‘mindless humor’ like Spongebob Squarepants.

It was there where Tony found him ten minutes later.

“JARVIS told me you were home,” he said from the doorway. Steve turned to him wearily.

“Yeah.” A long moment of silence passed between them before Steve eventually spoke. “Tony, I think we need to talk…” Tony’s breath hitched because nothing ever good came out of those words.

“Yeah?”

“I…” Steve looked away because there was no way he could do this when Tony was looking at him like _that_. “I think I need a bit more time to think about this… this thing we’re doing and whether it’s really right… for you… for us. It’s… it can’t… I—“

“No, no. I get it,” Tony cut in, and Steve desperately, desperately wished he would get angry because no amount of yelling and violence could be worse than his broken, resigned tone. “No, I understand. It’s too much. It’s not for you. And I… yeah… I think I’ll just…” He trailed off and only fading footsteps told Steve he had left.

He was ashamed to admit he didn’t stop Tony from leaving.

……………

“Iron Man, move to the right—the RIGHT!” Steve yelled into his communicator. Hulk, Thor and Natasha were already in place, waiting for Clint’s shot on Steve’s cue, but Tony was still advancing on the 50-foot giant metal robot thing from the left, contrary to all their planning. “Iron Man, if you don’t get in position _right now_ you will be benched for the next month!” Steve tried not to let the desperation seep through his voice. He was Captain America today, leader of the Avengers, not Steve Rogers, the man who broke Tony Stark’s heart.

“I’ve got it, Cap. Tell everyone to stand down; he’ll be coming in hard,” came Tony’s robotic voice through the communicator. It was the only warning he gave before he tore through the robot’s chest area and disappeared from view. There was a moment’s pause in which nothing happened and then the robot suddenly exploded from the inside. Its joints creaked and groaned as it fell to the water it stood in in pieces, along with a fortunately intact but unmoving Iron Man, and Steve yelled:

“Thor, Iron Man!” It was almost a relief to see Thor snatch Tony by the ankle and lower him to the middle of base camp where medical swarmed him. Steve jumped from the roof he stood on and ran as quickly as possible to the camp, just in time to see the arc reactor flicker back to life.

“Back up power level 15%, all systems functional. Welcome back, Mr. Stark and may I advise you to avoid repeat performances in the future,” he heard JARVIS say through the communicator, and Tony groaned, flipping open his faceplate. He caught sight of Steve hovering around the edges of the crowd.

“Don’t worry, Cap. No broken bones this time.” His tone was dry as he batted away the hands of the medics. Steve was momentarily caught between relief and fury and all he managed to say was:

“A month, Tony.” Tony frowned at him, stood, and flipped his faceplate closed. He said not another word as he flew off.

“You had him under control for the last three months, Captain. What happened?” Coulson asked as he and the others pushed their way through the dispersing crowd of medics.

“Lover’s spat?” Clint asked wryly, and Steve glared at him.

……………

"Coulson was right, you know?"

Steve looked up to see Natasha entering his room.

He had locked that door, so in light of her nosiness, he ignored her and continued his sketching. It was a landscape because that was a safe subject, because if he started to draw what he really wanted to draw...

"Tony was doing better. He wasn't being his stupid suicidal self for a few months now, and then two weeks ago you stopped talking and he's suddenly back to that. What happened?" Her tone was kind, non-accusative, so Steve did not tell her to butt out. "Did you break up?"

"No," Steve automatically answered. The defensiveness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by either of them. 

"I don't know," he amended with a sigh. “I think he thinks so, but I don’t… I don’t know.”

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he answered again. "I think it's Tony who you should talk to. It's... It was my fault."

"You're not an asshole, Steve," Natasha said. "You must have had your reasons to pick a fight." Steve gritted his teeth against the words threatening to spill out. It wasn't his place to talk about Tony's bedroom preferences to someone else, but he...

"I can't..." he said instead, defeated. Natasha took the sketchpad and pencil away and sat at his feet. She reached up to brush his hair away from his forehead.

"I think," she said pointedly, "that you are also a part of your relationship. And whatever is going on between Tony and you, it's also yours as much as it's his. And if you choose to share? That's your right, too." And she had a point really. "If it helps, you know that I'll take whatever you share to the grave if you tell me to." Steve smiled weakly.

"Yeah, I know." She fixed his hair once more.

"What was your fault?" she asked, feigning absence to give him an out if he really didn't want to talk about this. But honestly? He did. He needed this, needed someone to talk to, to help him sort out all the thoughts running through his head.

He was in way over his head here. He was drowning and needed someone to fish him out. Unfortunately, Tony couldn't be that person, not when he himself was depending on Steve to fish him out.

"I…” He faltered, trying to find the courage to admit his sins out loud. “I _hurt_ him," he confessed, his voice a shameful whisper. Natasha's eyes hardened, and her hand stilled.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific here, Steve," she said, her voice carefully neutral.

"No. No, I don't. Not really. Does it matter _why_ I hurt him?" He was saying this all wrong, but for some reason, to him, the reason didn't matter. It didn't matter that Tony _literally_ asked for it, only that he did it.

God, it sounded so bad. Natasha was going to start murdering him any second now, and Steve knew it was going to be painful and terrifying. And Steve kind of welcomed it. He didn't want to clarify.

Natasha, it seemed, was intent on reversing that decision for him. "You're going to tell me what you're talking about, Steve, because I do not like taking action based on incomplete information. You know that."

Steve groaned and buried his fingers in his hair, twisting sharply.

"He asks me to," he clarified, and suddenly it all spilled out because nothing he could say could probably make this any worse. He didn't look at Natasha as he explained because his words sounded like excuses to his ears, and he didn't want to see Natasha confirming that for him.

"Steve," she said when he had finished. She took Steve's hands and pulled them away from his face, and he had no choice but to look into her suddenly understanding eyes. "There's nothing wrong with you." Her voice brooked no room for disagreement. "Tony is an idiot, and you are overwhelmed, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with you."

"I'm _sick_ , Nat!" he cried. She held still, patient. "What kind of boyfriend--hell, what kind of _person_ wants to see someone he loves screaming in pain?!" Steve grabbed the armrests of his chair and dug his hands in before he could do something stupid like tear his hair out. The wood splintered in his hands.

"What kind of human being fantasizes about seeing another bruised and broken, bleeding. What kind of monster _gets off to that_?!" Even to his own ears, he sounded hysterical.

Natasha grabbed his face and pulled him close. "Stop!" she ordered in a firm voice. Steve held perfectly still except for the harsh breaths that shook him. "Tony is an idiot," she repeated, "In that he should have seen this, should have recognized this in you. He's been in the game longer than you have. This is his fault, but it's also neither of yours." She pushed him back into his chair and ordered him again to 'stay' while she fetched water from his kitchen and made him drink the entire glass.

"It would have been easier if you had done it the other way around," Natasha sighed. She picked at his hair again as she spoke. "But I suppose I shouldn't expect Tony Stark to make life easier for himself." She cupped Steve's cheeks and tilted his head up.

"The key phrase here, Cap, is 'safe, sane, and consensual,'" she said. "As long as your scenes meet all three requirements, I don't see how what you do is wrong." Steve laughed, but it was dry and humorless.

"I don't see how what we do is safe or sane."

"Don't be an idiot, Steve," Natasha berated. "I'm sure you've done your readings on this. You've discussed your limits. You have safety measures in place, yes? A safeword, first aid kit." Steve nodded. "Then you are safe. Do you drink, do you take drugs before your scenes, either of you?" Steve shook his head. "Then you are sane. Don't overly complicate this, Cap." Steve's shoulders relaxed of their own accord. Still, he buried his face in his hands.

"Still..." he tried again. "Still, how can--would _you_ want to hurt the person you love? SSC notwithstanding?" Natasha stroked his hair.

"You and I are different, Cap," she explained. "In that BDSM does not appeal to me sexually. I have experienced it, yes, but it does not turn me on the way it does you, so I cannot say. But the fact you're feeling this? That you feel terrible about it outside your scenes? It only shows that you're a good Dom, that you _care_ about your sub."

"It was so much easier when Tony was throwing himself at supervillains," Steve muttered and winced when Natasha jerked his chin up. Her eyes flashed.

"If you really want to see Tony unhurt then you will stop thinking that right now," she scolded and Steve suddenly felt ashamed for having thought it. "He wants this, as much as you do. Maybe more. And you have the power to give him what he wants and keep him safe at the same time. So he gets a few bruises, walks funny for a day or two. That would be leagues better than being caught up in medical for days, like how he used to." Steve lowered his eyes, properly chastised.

Natasha continued, "You want it, he wants it, and the world doesn't have to know. I fail to see why there's a problem.”

"It's not that easy--"

"It _is_ that easy," she insisted. "The fate of the world does not depend on your bedroom preferences."

"Except if I lay up Tony for a few days when the apocalypse is sure to happen."

"You are not that stupid, Steve,” she snapped. “And neither is Tony. You're overthinking this. I'm pretty sure I said something about that." Her tone implied that she was about to start breaking something. Maybe Steve. 

He retreated while he was still ahead. "I need time," he admitted. Natasha stood and pressed a kiss to his hair.

"Of course you do, and you should. But talk to Tony, Steve. Soon. He needs to hear that from you," she very nearly pleaded in the exact tone of voice that made it known she knew it was futile. She was right, really.

Steve caught her hand as she turned to leave.

"Thanks, Nat," he thanked anyway with complete sincerity.

…………………………………………

He didn’t take Natasha’s advice. Of course he didn’t because while Captain America was a paragon of bravery, Steve Rogers, apparently, was a coward.

Instead, when he was positive he was alone in the mansion tonight (or more accurately, when he knew Tony was out at one function or another), he emerged from hiding.

He was on his way to the rec room from the kitchen, a bowl of popcorn in hand, intending to watch a movie to pass the slow night, when Tony stepped through the foyer. 

He was dapper, as usual, in a dark suit and red tie, his red-tinted sunglasses perched on the end of his nose despite the fact that it was dark out, and Steve itched to pull him close and slam him up against the wall and take him until he begged to stop or begged for completion. It was that thought that grounded him, that held him frozen in place up until another person, a man, walked in through the door behind Tony and pressed him up against the nearest wall, stealing several kisses from him. 

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched Tony being devoured by the other man, their hips rocking against each other obscenely. Then Tony’s partner twisted his arm such that Tony let out a sharp cry and turned himself to face the wall to alleviate some of the pain. The other man was grinding himself into Tony’s ass, ignoring the whimpers and moans of the genius.

“Bedroom?” the other man asked.

“Upstairs,” Tony answered then yelped as the man used his twisted arm as leverage to force him to his knees.

“Maybe I should just take you here and let your friend there watch,” he said, his eyes suddenly flickering to Steve. Steve found Tony also staring at him, but even that couldn’t compel him to leave.

“He’s not interested,” Tony answered and Steve had to shiver at the coldness of his voice.

“Pity. I would have loved for an audience to watch me break you.” 

Steve met the green gaze, his fury suddenly _burning_. How fucking _dare_ he touch Tony, threaten to _hurt_ him? 

The man nudged Tony with his shoe. “Well, bedroom then, love. On your hands and knees,” he commanded. Steve still held his gaze as the pair made their way down the hall, and just as his shoulder brushed against Tony’s partner, Steve’s hand shot out and grabbed the other man’s arm. The popcorn bowl clattered to the floor, unnoticed. 

Alarm replaced the look of cool superiority on the other man’s face as Steve’s grip tightened. Only when Tony cried out “Steve!” did Steve move by striding towards the front door and quite literally throwing the man out of it. He snapped at Happy who was loitering in the driveway, “Get him out of here,” and glared down at the man until Happy drove off with him.

Then Steve turned to see Tony at the other end of the hall, still sitting on his knees.

There was only a moment’s hesitation, and then Steve was striding down the hallway and hauling Tony up to his feet by the front of his suit. 

He barely noticed as he slammed Tony against the nearest wall a little too hard because his lips were on Tony’s, and Tony’s hands were in his hair and his legs around his waist. Their kiss was messy and desperate and _angry_ , and Steve had to call on all his willpower to pull himself back because he had to ask. To know.

“How many…?” he started, breathless and furious and guilty all at the same time. “How many men have taken you since I did, Stark?” Tony tried to pull him back into the kiss, but Steve dropped his legs and pinned his wrists to the wall instead, holding him back.

“None,” Tony whimpered. “None, I swear! He--he was supposed to be the first.” Steve’s grip tightened, and Tony babbled on the defensive, “You were ignoring me! Avoiding me! How was I supposed to interpret that? It was only obvious that you couldn’t handle this. Us.” Steve let out a frustrated sound and kissed Tony again, their teeth clicking together. A sharp burst of a metallic flavor fell on his tongue and it took him a moment to realize that Tony’s teeth must have caught his lip. He let go of Tony’s wrists to bury his hands in his boyfriend’s hair, kissing him deeper. Tony grasped at Steve’s neck, pulling him closer. 

“What do you want, Steve?” he demanded when Steve broke the kiss. 

The question stunned him for half a moment, but then he remembered his answer to that, remembered the conclusion he came to after his and Natasha’s talk that he didn’t want yet to admit to. If he told Tony now, if he gave into this now… There was no turning back. 

Steve let out another frustrated growl and pressed his face to Tony’s neck, willing--with the very last of his resolve--to hold back the words in his mouth.

“Steve--”

“I hate that you push me when I need time,” he gritted out. “You’re always too fast; I can never catch up. Too demanding; I can never say no.” He looked up into Tony’s face and pinned him to the wall with his body. “And then you go and throw ultimatums like _this_ in my face and force me to choose. And fuck, Tony! Nobody pushes me the way you do!” God, the way Tony was staring at him right now, apologetic, _pleading_ … Steve knew exactly what to say. “But sometimes--a lot of the time, I need that push I think because it’s not 1942, and the world isn’t as slow as it used to be. And it gets me to stop being such an idiot about the things that I want and just go for it.” He kissed Tony, promising him the _world_.

"I know what you need, Tony," he murmured against his mouth. He did, he _did_ , and he needed that too. "And that... that... _man_ wouldn't have been able to give it to you.” He kissed Tony again before he could continue because Tony’s mouth was red and spit-slicked and so very delicious. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't been... clear. Before you, I'd never--I'd never even considered this, so I didn't know what I wanted, didn't know it was allowed."

"So tell me, Steve. What do you want?" Tony asked, demanded because he needed to hear; he needed to know.

" _You _!" Steve answered emphatically, his grip in Tony's hair tightening. Tony winced loudly, and Steve endeavoured to hear that sound again. "I want you kneeling for me, crawling for me." There was promise in his voice and in the hand that slipped down to his throat and squeezed. "I want you bruised and broken. I want you sobbing from the welts I put on your back. I want you aching with emptiness and begging for release. God, Tony, I just want... want to _hurt_ you."__

__And Tony wailed--wailed--as Steve sunk his teeth into the flesh just below his jawbone. His knees bucked, and Steve had to hold him up while he assaulted his neck and ground their hips together._ _

__"Yes," the genius croaked through the assault. "Yes, green. Green, all of that. _Please_." Steve stared at him for a moment, unmoving._ _

__Then he slammed their mouths back together and devoured Tony._ _

__…………………………………………_ _

__"Tell me your safeword," he eventually demanded even when he barely let Tony's lips alone enough to let him speak. He thrust his hips up against Tony's, hard enough that Tony grunted with each push that flattened him against the wall. "Tell me!" Steve repeated when Tony couldn't speak. But he was already pinning Tony's wrists above his head._ _

__"God, Steve!" Tony whined, his head slamming back with a low thud. Steve took that moment to press his advantage and bite into the bared flesh. The cry that escaped Tony was high pitched and pained. "Argo!" he called out when he could._ _

__Steve wrenched himself away completely, launching himself back against the other wall, his palms pressed flat against it. His chest heaved with exertion that could not have been justified in the given situation._ _

__"Last chance to stop this, Stark," he growled low, as if it pained him to say. "Last chance to stop me. After this, only your safeword will." Steve watched him with dark eyes. They flitted once--just once--to the door where Steve had thrown Tony's date out, then came back to him, pinning him against the wall like his body had done earlier._ _

__The breath in Tony's throat stuttered to a stop._ _

__God, he wouldn’t have stopped this if world peace depended on it._ _

__Instead, he begged, every nerve in his body vibrating with excitement, “ _Please, Steve_.”_ _

__In an instant, the soldier was pressed once more against him, lifting him up. He pinned him to the wall with only his hips and thighs because his hands cupped Tony's face. Tony wrapped his legs around his waist almost involuntarily._ _

__Steve's breath washed over his lips when he spoke._ _

__"I’m not going to go easy." And that wasn’t a warning. It was a promise._ _

__"I’m holding you to that," Tony breathed._ _

__And then the corners of Steve’s mouth curled into a sinister grin._ _

__Steve dropped him--just stepped back and watched him tumble to the floor with a thud and an 'oof.' Then, he turned on his heel and started walking._ _

__"Crawl," he ordered without acknowledging Tony or slowing to wait. So it took Tony a second to find his bearings and get to his hands and knees._ _

__The others were about, he knew, and they could easily come out and see him trailing after Steve like a dog. Steve certainly wasn't taking to caution, strolling through the common areas with nonchalance, briefly stopping twice to take notice of things that needed notice. If Tony were to be honest, though, the thought of being seen like this..._ _

__Steve casually sifted through the mail he picked up in one of his stops. When they reached the stairs, he climbed without a single glance or word or evidence of care for Tony’s ability to climb on all fours. He strolled up with his eyes still on a letter he had unfolded._ _

__Tony shivered as he struggled to keep up with Steve’s pace. Anticipation was heavy on his mind as Steve fell into the role Tony needed from him until they finally stopped at Tony's suite._ _

__"Take off your clothes and leave them by the door," Steve ordered calmly. He walked towards the bedroom as Tony quickly obeyed. He folded his clothes neatly and set them aside, but still had to wait a while, sitting on his heels and hands in his lap, for Steve to return. When he did, Tony's heart leaped to his throat._ _

__Steve crouched in front of him, eyes glittering, and tilted his chin up._ _

__The thick collar weighed heavily at his throat, making him very consciously aware of it, but Tony refrained from swallowing. Steve slipped two fingers between the collar and his throat, checking its tightness himself instead of asking Tony how it felt._ _

__Clearly, Tony was going to be a passive participant in tonight's games._ _

__Steve smiled as he clipped a chain lead to the D-ring at the collar's front, but he said nothing. Instead, he stood and tugged at the lead wordlessly._ _

__Tony really had no choice but to follow, and wasn't this just a litte more excellent than before? Steve couldn't see him, but Tony felt the involuntary sway move through his body, pleased and feeling sensual._ _

__Not passive, then, if Tony had anything to say about it--he was going to give as good as he got._ _

__Steve set him in the middle of the room, near the foot of the bed, where the sofa set and coffee table--now pushed to the sides of the room--usually resided. "Stretch your hands out," he ordered._ _

__Tony crawled forward on his hands, leaving his knees as they were. Steve kicked his knees wider, and Tony was suddenly all the more aware of his cock hanging freely in empty air, the tip just barely brushing the carpet beneath him. Swallowing down that awareness, he arched his back to tilt his ass up for Steve's viewing pleasure and received a brief caress for his efforts._ _

__"Gorgeous," Steve murmured, stroking his hand down Tony's back and stopping on his neck. He reached around to Tony's chin to lift it up and kissed Tony sweetly, gently, and thoroughly, which only made Tony more suspicious of his intentions._ _

__Then he held up a spider gag._ _

__“I’m going to miss your pretty lips,” Steve murmured as he pried Tony’s mouth open with a thumb in his cheek. Tony swallowed a hard spike of lust, and opened his mouth wide. Steve's approving smile settled over him like a warm blanket._ _

__The gag bit into the corners of his mouth and the backs of his teeth, not painfully, but with enough pressure to promise it._ _

__He was drooling before they’d even begun._ _

__Steve swiped at it from the corner of his mouth, smearing it along his cheek. “You’re not to move,” he said, evenly, seriously. “You can cry, you can scream--I want you to--but the moment you break your position, I will stop. That’s your safeword while you’re wearing this.” His thumb flicked at the gag, dislodging a trail of spit. He chuckled and humiliation burned in Tony. “Move, and I will stop.” Tony nodded and a kiss was applied his cheek. Then Steve pushed his forehead to the carpet and stood._ _

__"Keep your head down," he said from a distance--unnecessarily, really, because Tony wouldn’t have moved anyway. He strained to hear Steve and get a clue of what he had planned, but the carpet was proving a nuisance in that endeavour, and Steve really could move silently when--_ _

__He screamed before he realized what had happened._ _

__Then a second lash accompanied the first even before his scream had died out, then a third and a fourth and a fifth._ _

__The switch’s attack was sudden and rapid, slicing ribbons of pain and fire across his back and his ass. It was relentless and cruel, and it took everything in him to keep still, to keep his body held taut through the assault._ _

__Tony had never been harder in his life._ _

__He sobbed, he begged, he screamed, and through it all, Steve was silent. Only the whistle of the switch through the air told him to brace for each impact. After what almost seemed like eternity, the lashes stopped almost as suddenly as they began._ _

__He couldn’t stop the shaking of his shoulders that accompanied his sobs, and only hoped Steve didn’t count that as movement enough to stop. His back was covered in a blanket of pain, from the backs of his shoulders down to the base of his ass. It was perfect agony that Tony relished in._ _

__Steve jerked his chin back up and traced his fingers through Tony’s wet cheeks. His eyes were unreadable and dark, and Tony wanted, needed to know if he’d done well, if Steve thought he was good. A pleading sound escaped his throat, but Steve only dipped two of his fingers into his mouth. Tony’s tongue found them and lapped at them, unable to do more, unable to hold back the drool that ran down his chin and dripped onto the floor._ _

__Steve smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of smile he’d ever used outside the bedroom--or to be more accurate, outside of their scenes. It was sinister and sensual, with just a hint of a sneer in it. It promised more good things to come, and in its presence, Tony almost sobbed in sheer _want_._ _

__The fingers in his mouth slowly slipped in further. Tony’s eyes widened as Steve didn’t stop pushing them in past his tongue and into his throat until his knuckles were pressed to Tony’s lips. Tony gagged around them, drawing fresh tears from his eyes and snot from his nose, but he didn’t move, he didn’t move, but God how hard it was not to!_ _

__“Don’t vomit,” Steve ordered, as if Tony could help it, as if he could stop it! “If you vomit, I will make you clean it up with your tongue.”_ _

__Tony whined and sobbed around the stilled fingers in his throat and the gagging they induced. He was a mess, his face was a humiliating mess of bodily fluids, but he didn’t move as Steve moved his fingers back and forth, in and out. They were small, tiny, little motions that shouldn’t have had the effect they did, but Tony’s stomach didn’t seem to care._ _

__Steve’s eyes glittered as he watched Tony struggle, and it was that sight that grounded him until Steve finally, _finally_ pulled his fingers out and wiped them on Tony’s cheeks. Then the handle of the switch was pressed into his mouth and “lick” was the order that accompanied it. So Tony did._ _

__Tony did with the enthusiasm and expertise of giving head. He licked the end and curled his tongue around the shaft. He dragged his tongue along the length of what Steve allowed him and held his lover’s gaze as he did, aiming to arouse, to tease._ _

__It was going well, Steve’s eyes approving, his mouth a pleased twist, until Steve pushed it in further. When it nudged up against the back of his throat, Tony once again lost all control of the situation._ _

__“Mmm, yes…” Steve murmured absently, stroking the outside of his throat to feel it flex and undulate. He squeezed it, tighter than necessary, but not enough to restrict Tony’s breath. “Not the great Anthony Edward Stark are you now, huh, Tony?” he murmured, a chuckle in his voice._ _

__The switch was nudged in just a fraction further and suddenly, Tony could feel the bile rising up from his stomach, burning at his esophagus. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose, all his attention focused on keeping the contents of his stomach down. Sobs escaped his mouth in between retches and more tears and snot escaped his eyes and nose._ _

__God, he must look disgusting._ _

__But he couldn’t deny the burn of desire that Steve had reduced him into this, a blubbering mess of pain, with just a few strips of the switch and a few minutes of deepthroating._ _

__The switch was withdrawn from his mouth, and Tony sobbed in relief. He dared not drop his head though because Steve hadn’t yet told him to._ _

__“You did very well, Tony,” Steve crooned as he stood and dug into his jeans. He pulled out his cellphone and crouched in front of Tony, holding it up in front of his face. The flash was bright and startling, and when Tony’s vision cleared, he could see Steve looking appreciatively at the photo. Tony almost didn’t want to see it, but he didn’t have any choice anyway as Steve turned the phone to show Tony._ _

__Shame flared up in him, hot and painful. It really was as horrible and Tony expected._ _

__Steve’s grin continued to be sinister, and he turned the phone back around and thumbed it. “Imagine what the world would say if they saw you like this,” he said thoughtfully. His thumb moved over the screen and Tony had no way of knowing if Steve was just checking his messages or if he was sending the picture out to the world._ _

__He wouldn’t though, right? Because this was a scene, and Steve was still Steve._ _

__The noise that left his throat was entirely too pleading. Steve only smirked at him and pocketed his phone then curled his fingers around Tony's collar and tugged him upright on his knees._ _

__"Hands behind your back," was the soft instruction. Tony didn't hesitate to comply. He folded both arms behind his back, hissing when sweat stung his welts, and waited as Steve took them both with one hand and pulled them back and up. Tony let out a pained sound but that didn't pause Steve's actions in the slightest. He dragged the leash to the back of his throat and wrapped the chain links around Tony's arms, too high, too tight._ _

__His joints ached as soon as Steve finished tying him up, but if he pulled his arms too far down to relieve the ache, the collar choked him. Not to mention the chain links pinched and bit into his skin and aggravated the welts on his back._ _

__Whatever the pain he felt, though, Steve seemed happy with his handiwork. He stood and took another picture._ _

__"You're so hard for me," he said as he pocketed his phone. One of his feet caressed the underside of Tony's balls and instinct made him freeze in fear. A foot to the balls was never a good thing, but Steve did nothing but tease them. "I never said you could be." Tony's words gurgled in his throat, and Steve laughed. "Don't worry, I won't punish you this time. But we're going to fix this, okay?"_ _

__He moved to the bedroom, leaving Tony to wonder what the fuck he was talking about._ _

__It took him less than a minute to return, but Tony couldn't see what he was holding. "Close your eyes," he ordered, and though Tony was too curious, he obeyed anyway._ _

__And then Steve's hands were on his cock, pulling and stroking harshly. Tony gasped. His hips rocked up to meet Steve's strokes, almost pumping furiously into his fist._ _

__"Yeah, that's it," Steve muttered. He seemed almost distracted, hurried. He stripped Tony’s cock with a perfect efficiency: quick but just pleasurable enough to drive Tony to the brink of his orgasm. "Come for me, pretty whore,” he ordered, impatient. His wrist twisted once and squeezed at the shaft, and that and his endearment made Tony wail. “Come on. Now, Tony. Fucking come!"_ _

__Tony cried out, his eyes screwed painfully shut. He was there, he was... nearly now. His cock had already been so hard, and Steve's hand on him, Steve ordering him to come was indescribable._ _

__Steve twisted his hand once more, and suddenly, Tony was screaming his orgasm, struggling to stay upright._ _

__"Beautiful, beautiful," Steve murmured, still stroking hard, squeezing the come out of Tony's cock. "You come so pretty, Tony." The last of Tony's come spurted out, but Steve was still stroking with furious intent._ _

__Tony whimpered when the first bouts of oversensitivity struck him and cried out when Steve wouldn't stop. His cock shrunk away from Steve's hand, and his hips jerked back. And when relief was finally given, when Steve took his hand away, cold metal immediately slid over his flaccid cock._ _

__Tony's eyes flew open and down to find Steve snapping a cock cage in place. His reaction was smack in the middle of arousal and despair._ _

__"There," Steve declared proudly when he clicked the padlock in place. Tony whimpered once more, trying to hold still, but finding it futile. The solid casing warmed over time, but that solved none of Tony’s problems._ _

__This was… It felt…_ _

__Well, pretty fucking _arousing_ was what it was, and therein lie the crux of all Tony’s problems. The solid sleeve constricted him; each inch of arousal was also an inch of pain, and he was stuck in limbo between both._ _

__It was almost too much. _Almost_ , which made it exactly perfect._ _

__Steve kneeled in front of him and kissed his forehead. He stroked his cheek gently, a mockery for all of the heartlessness he'd shown earlier. Tony leaned into his touch anyway._ _

__"Should I keep you like this all the time?" the captain asked in a whisper, and Tony suddenly froze._ _

___No!_ was his first instinctive thought. Then, when he decided ‘yes’ was a better answer, _God, no_. _ _

__Tony shook his head frantically._ _

__"Shhh. Shhh..." Steve murmured, calming him. He reached behind Tony's shaking head to untie the gag. It fell away, and Tony groaned at the pain in his jaw and swallowed the pool of saliva that collected in his mouth. Steve rewarded him with a kiss, heedless of the mess that was his mouth, so Tony leaned into him, pressing their chests together, desperate for an ounce of warmth and tenderness. He was allowed that one moment of tenderness, and then Steve pushed him back._ _

__"Do you want to stop?" he asked, tracing Tony’s cheek with his fingertips. What confidence he had had before was laced with doubt, and maybe Tony shouldn’t have been _that_ convincing. Tony shook his head once more, daring not to trust his words just yet because Steve was right to stop--the discomfort of Doms deserved to be addressed too--but he didn’t want the scene to end either when it was just getting so good._ _

__The hand on his face was hesitant as it trailed down his neck. And when he trusted his words once more, Tony croaked, “I haven’t safeworded.” His voice was hoarse and ragged, and he leaned into the touch far too eagerly, but it was all well and good when Steve's grin turned positively _filthy_._ _

__He tipped Tony's head back and pried his lips apart to press an open-mouthed kiss to it. Tony groaned in pleasure, in pain because the stupid cage wasn't helping._ _

__"I want your mouth," Steve mumbled against his mouth, easily back in character (and boy what a character it was!) which didn't make a lot of sense to Tony because he already had it. But then Steve stood and his cock was in Tony's line of sight, and yeah, that made much more sense. He tried to close his mouth to swallow and lick his lips in anticipation, but Steve's thumb was still digging into his cheek to hold it open, so Tony held still._ _

__And then Steve's cock was in his mouth, and Tony couldn't get enough of it. It was full and firm and thick and he couldn't fucking wait for it to be inside him because he /ached/._ _

__His tongue slid along the shaft, reveling in the taste, the texture, the girth of it because Steve's cock was as much a work of art as the rest of him was. His lips closed to suckle at the head when Steve pulled back far enough to allow him. Tony was under no illusions; Steve was still controlling the game, no matter how he moaned and panted._ _

__As if to demonstrate, Steve pushed his fingers into Tony's hair and gripped hard enough to pull a wince out of him. Using that, he pushed Tony's head back at a fairly awkward angle and shifted until he was standing mostly over him. That was all the warning Tony needed to brace himself when Steve sunk his cock down into his mouth as far as it would go._ _

__Half a whine managed to escape before it was fully silence by Steve's cock in his throat. At any other time, Tony would have made a quip about Steve fucking his tonsils, but right now, he struggled to relax his throat, keep his stomach contents down, and ignore the unnatural stretch his throat was subjected to._ _

__And then Steve started to move, and Tony felt his whimpers and moans stuck in his chest. One of Steve's hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing rather gently, strangely enough, until Tony realized it was to feel his cock from the outside. A groan rumbled in his chest, followed by a whine when the cage once again constricted his cock into submission._ _

__In this position, he could see furious glee dancing in Steve's eyes as he pushed himself down into Tony. It was exhilarating, it was maddening because Tony wanted that all the damn time, wanted Steve to look at him like he fucking _owned_ Tony. He was lost in it, in Steve's hands and his eyes and his cock, and Tony was deliriously happy._ _

__Soon enough, though, he realized that their position offered him no room to breathe, especially not with Steve's hand still wrapped around his neck. Tony didn't much care, to be honest, because he'd much rather blow Steve than breathe, but his vision started darkening at the edges and he could no longer do more than just take it._ _

__His eyes fluttered shut to protect against the dizziness he felt, but that was enough, apparently, for Steve to pull out. But he gave the genius no respite._ _

__He picked Tony up and dumped him on the bed, face pushed into the duvet. Tony groaned as his world spun, but Steve was already digging into his hole with lubed fingers, two at once because this was efficiency at its finest--no time for comfort, no time for pleasure._ _

__Tony ached._ _

__Every second Steve fingered his ass was blissful torture, and he was half out of his mind with want._ _

__"Ste--God!" he cried out because he remembered he could speak now. Four of Steve's fingers, two on each hand, were spreading him open, and he could feel the cool air blowing into him. His cock throbbed once and quieted, and Tony sobbed his frustration into the sheets. "Steve, please!" he begged, spreading his legs wide because what else could he do?_ _

__"Whore," Steve muttered, almost as an afterthought. Before Tony could react, though, he was sinking himself in without hesitation_ _

__The resulting scream was stuck in Tony's throat, his brain undecided if he wanted to let it out or keep it in. He held still, suspended in limbo while Steve plowed into him with ruthless efficiency._ _

__The time for teasing was over, it seemed. Now, there was only punishing need._ _

__And punishing it was. When his brain caught up with his body, Tony let out a choked sob. His fingers itched to relieve the pain in his cock. It was straining more than ever to be hard with arousal but the constricting pain prevented it from doing so, prevented Tony from enjoying the full pleasure of Steve's thrusts._ _

__He cried._ _

__"Gonna keep you like this all the time," Steve bit out. "Gonna keep you desperate to get hard, desperate to come. Gonna make you beg me all the time." Tony could barely understand him, so the words might have been just for Steve's benefit. "Only good boys deserve to come. Have you been good, Tony?" His voice was demanding, almost angry._ _

__The thrusts stopped, and oh, Tony was supposed to answer? What was the question again?_ _

__"What...?" he mumbled, shifting his ass as best as he could with Steve digging dents into his hips._ _

__"Have you been a good boy, Tony? Should I let you come?" Tony nodded frantically. It was a lie, it was a really, really bad lie, but he wanted to come so badly. Steve resumed his thrusts. "Good boys don't let other boys take them home. Good boys don't want other boys do _this_ to them." He punctuated with a hard thrust, and Tony wailed. "Do they?"_ _

__"No!" Tony answered, shaking his head. "Nononono."_ _

__"Good boys don't lie about how good they are, do they?"_ _

__"No," Tony sobbed. "No, they don't. Steve, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please. Pleasepleaseplease." He was going to go insane, he was sure of it._ _

__"Hmmm..."_ _

__"Steve, please. Anything, I'll do anything, just--" He cried out. "--Just please let me come." Steve hummed thoughtfully even as his hips snapped in a brutal pace._ _

__"What punishment should I give you instead?" Steve wanted him to _think_?! Even his "anything!" was almost beyond his grasp. Steve thought some more. "I'll wrap you up in one of those latex suits," he decided on, and just the thought of it made Tony cry out in denied arousal._ _

__"Please!"_ _

__Steve ignored him. "You won’t see, won't hear, won't smell anything but the inside of that suit, and then I'll tie you up to a machine that's going to fuck you for hours and hours, not a minute's pause in between." Tony sobbed. "You're going to come over and over and over again, gonna make such a mess inside your suit, and when you can't get it up anymore, you can't even cry, it's still going to fuck you and--oh! Nngh!" And then Steve was coming inside of him._ _

__"Steve!" Tony begged, his voice nearly a scream. Steve pushed him off into the center of the bed, face up. He undid the cage, and Tony nearly came just from the sensation of his rapidly filling cock. He reached for it, intent to fist himself to completion, but Steve slapped his hand away._ _

__"Talk," he barked. "Come from that or not at all." Tony sobbed and fisted the sheets instead. His mind scrambled for something, for anything to get him off._ _

__"T... Take me to a... a BDSM club," was what he came up with. "Make me get naked in front of everyone. I'll crawl behind you on the leash and... And anyone can touch. Me, my ass, my cock."_ _

__"You want that?" Steve hissed. Tony didn't know about later, couldn't think, but right now, yeah. He'd let Steve do that. "You'd have fingers sliding into your ass all night, no one's gonna be able to resist testing how tight you are. Or how loose."_ _

__"Yes..." Tony whined, his hips thrusting into the air._ _

__"What else?" Tony sobbed again; he couldn't think._ _

__"You'll tie me up, bent over, and... and they'll. They'll fuck me with anything they want. Dildos, beads, plugs, b... bottles." His face burned with shame as the words continued to tumble out of his mouth. "I won't be able to say no. You'd make me beg, make me thank them with my mouth. Watch me swallow their come." Hands were in his hair._ _

__"You like that." It wasn't a question. Tony nodded as best as he could. He writhed, half hoping it would be enough to entice Steve to get him off, half needing the stimulation to get himself off._ _

__Then Steve's face was right up against his, his breath washing over Tony's cheek. "Of course you'd like it," Steve hissed, and grabbed his cock just as he spat, " _Whore._ " And Tony was _done_._ _

__............_ _

__He came to, boneless and spent. Steve was murmuring in his ear, and for a moment, Tony couldn't understand. He reached out to curl his hand around Steve's neck. His arm felt heavy, but he persevered, bringing Steve closer._ _

__"I love you. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Steve mumbled over and over again. Tony kissed him to shut him up, and when it felt like Steve wasn't going to say stupid things anymore, he let him pull back._ _

__"That was..." Tony breathed out. Steve looked petrified. "That was really fucking excellent, Steve."_ _

__"I'm sorry," Steve sighed, pressing his forehead to Tony's chest. "I shouldn't have--He was... He was _touching_ you, and I got angry. It wasn't supposed to go like that. We were supposed to talk. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"_ _

__"Babe, no," Tony answered. He sighed because it was really fucking hard to think. "I love you, and we are going to talk about this, I promise, but I can't.... I'm still very, very buzzed. Can we just... cuddle?"_ _

__"Oh. Oh right, yes, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I--" Steve stopped his rambling and took a deep breath then slid onto the bed beside Tony. He curled around the billionaire and pulled him into his chest. "I'm sorry, you're right. We should save this for later." Tony hummed, but said nothing more, simply counting out the strokes to his hair. He was still floaty and pleasantly aching. They could save conversations for the morning._ _

__"Tony?" Steve whispered. Tony hummed again, half asleep already. "Thank you." Tony's heart jumped in his chest. "Thank you for giving me that. You were so beautiful, and I enjoyed it. Very much." Tony burrowed his face further into Steve's chest._ _

__"No," he answered. "Thank you for... For understanding. For trying." Steve pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and like that, Tony knew they were going to be okay._ _


End file.
